Disclaimers: This is a work of fanfiction and is not intended for profit. None of it's mine, otherwise, we'd know what the Furlings looked like..
Zomvee: As a matter of fact, while the Ones love posing as men of the cloth for their disguises, they are often sarcastic when speaking of prayer or God. They often use God in their arguments with the Sixes, but you can tell on their faces they're openly derisive of the idea of religion or God.
Alright guys, here we go. One last chapter, and then an epilogue to wrap things up.
A star is the source of life for a solar system, nurturing its planets by giving off light and warmth. Holding them within its embrace through gravity. And in its death throes, it will also give death to those same planets. It devoured them as it swelled in its later stages, bombarded them with massive radiation as it went nova, or simply drew them in as it collapsed.
The irony of it appealed to Cavil. That was why he chose this place. The fact that the maelstrom of radiation and debris also hid the Colony from all but the closest of sensor scans was also a bonus. It hid it from long range scans as well, but never having conceived of a sensor array that could scan with such detail over interstellar distances, he remained blissful in his ignorance.
Except of course, that the limitations for those trying to scan the debris field in the hope of finding the Colony also applied to him. That is, he, or rather the Colony's DRADIS arrays, could not see out of the debris cloud either. He could not even see more than a few SU, and only on one hemisphere, the one that was not occupied by the singularity. On the side where the singularity was, the radiation rendered DRADIS useless for anything farther than an SU out.
To remedy this, he had Raiders patrolling the debris field. They were not as effective as they used to be, not since they had been reverted to base configuration. Report back any anomalies was hopefully a simple enough instruction, he reasoned. Little did he know, his precautions would very soon be put to the test.
Three hours previous
"Now that we're all here, why don't you tell us why we shouldn't just chuck you out of the nearest airlock?" Colonel Saul Tigh spoke sullenly, the reappearance of his wife having dampened his dark mood only slightly.
Sharon "Boomer" Valeri bit back a retort and struggled to keep her face calm. She had immediately requested asylum from the Tau'ri as soon as she came aboard, so she at least was for the moment safe from the President's justice. Once the Tau'ri agreed she had then asked for a conference with the major players in the combined fleet. It had not taken long to organize. There was not any place in the fleet beyond the reach of the Odyssey's borderline magical technology, after all. Watching it in action, teleporting everyone in had been quite the experience.
"Temper, temper, Colonel," she chided the older man. "After all, your wife and I just travelled a very long way. Straight from the Cylons' hidden base in, fact. Consider the implications of that."
The gathered Cylons exchanged glances among themselves, uncomfortably drawing the conclusion she wanted them to. But it was the Admiral who voiced it out.
"The Cylons, the enemy Cylons, they know where we are."
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why the Admiral is in charge." Boomer smiled broadly as she confirmed their fears. She looked at each in turn, before stopping at the One sitting quietly to the side. Her smile faded, replaced by a horrified expression. "You never told them, did you?"
"Tell us what?" D'Anna asked.
"The Ones know where Earth is. They always have. I know because I know everything they know."
This revelation drew all eyes to the single One, who coughed uncomfortably before speaking.
"The Final Five never made any secret of their origins before my brothers boxed them. So they've always known where Earth is."
"It's why we've never been able to lose them for very long," Chief Tyrol, one of the Final Five whispered. "They always knew what direction to search in."
"When were you planning to tell us?" D'Anna asked of the One.
"I told you, when it became relevant." The One replied evenly. "What difference would it have made? There was no way they would have attacked while the Tau'ri were escorting your fleet. And as I understand it, they did not exactly come away from the ambush unscathed."
"So you think we're safe for the moment." President Roslin concluded, her eyes studying the renegade Cylon. "There's something else you're after. You said you came directly from the Cylon base, so you can find your way back, but even as ignorant of military matters as I am, I can tell we don't have the resources to make any kind of move against it."
The other Cylons nodded, agreeing with her conclusion.
"There's something in it for you, too." Boomer replied. "The planet down below is uninhabitable. In any case, wherever you choose to settle, you'll need supplies. As you probably know the remaining Basestars from the First War are all still docked at the Colony. What you don't realize is that two of them are actually from the original production run by Graystone Industries before the war broke out, fully kitted out for planetary invasion and occupation."
That drew blank looks from the Colonials, until one of the Cylons spoke.
"Cargo holds containing prefabricated structures, earth moving and construction equipment, weapons and ammunition, ground vehicles, uniforms and clothing, shop and fabrication equipment to make more, all the things needed to support an occupation force and headquarters unit on the ground and supply its personnel. Food as well, though that's unlikely to still be edible."
Comprehension dawned on the Colonials faces and Boomer nodded.
"The Cylons of the time were not sure what to do with the extra supplies and simply vac-sealed off the cargo holds. I checked, they've been perfectly preserved for the most part. All the little things you'll probably find useful if say... you were trying to set up a new colony."
"I assume you're telling us all this because you have a plan. What will it involve and what will it cost us?" Tom Zarek asked.
"You'll need gimmicked IFF transponders, access codes and backdoors to bypass the patrols and perimeter defenses." She held up a portable mini-drive. "A fleet of small craft, like Heavy Raiders should do the trick. In return I want a full pardon and immunity from prosecution. From both Cylon and Colonial governments. A real one. Not one where I wake up a few days from now being handcuffed by some 'rogues' and marched to an airlock."
"The Cylons have been fully integrated into the Colonial government, with representation on the Quorum as descendants of the Thirteenth Tribe, as of just three hours ago. If we agree, everyone will abide by it." The President replied sternly.
"You know, those Baseships probably haven't jumped in decades?" The Admiral mused, putting his two cents in. "Likely a longer downtime than the Galactica back before Ragnar."
"Well then, I guess that makes it very convenient that somebody used the Ones' private codes to quietly have the Centurions completely overhaul the drives. All completed as of... about two hours ago." Boomer smirked.
"How do we know the Colony will still be there when we get there?" Natalie asked.
"Because somebody used those same codes to have the Centurions do a full system diagnostic on the Colony's drives. Estimated time to completion should still be another twenty-four hours."
Colonial and Cylon alike traded glances, weighing the pros and cons. The Tau'ri simply watched with curiosity.
"I suggest you decide quickly," Boomer prodded. She knew she had this in the bag. "You all have a deadline to meet."
"One thing I want to know," the Admiral spoke up. His expression grave.
"Why?"
"Why?" Boomer simply echoed, looking at him blankly for a second.
"Why? You ask," she whispered, seemingly trying to make up her mind about something. Briefly she considered just telling him some sort of tale or lying outright. But no, the time for falsehoods was past. She had to be honest now, if she was to be free of the Ones' curse.
"They turned me into a sleeper." She began quietly. "Made me turn against those I considered my friends. Brothers and sisters. Made me shoot the man I considered my mentor, almost like a father. And for what? To slake their own thirst for blood? To pander to their own petty grudges?"
"I never had a choice! They took that from me!" She cried as she looked the Cylons in the eye, becoming ever more impassioned as she spoke.
"Did you know that the Ones had carte blanche over the disposal of all sleeper agents? Where they were, who they were, how to contact them, how to activate them. All assignments and missions, all of it under their sole discretion without any interference from the consensus. No oversight. No checks or balances."
"They didn't even have to be picky. They could turn any of the human models into sleepers. They turned the Final Five into sleepers. They instigated this entire war, whispering in the ears of the Admirals to cross the Armistice line, whispering in the ears of the politicians to disarm because the danger was past. Pushing both sides against each other. The clusterfrak on New Caprica, pushing to box the Threes on no better argument beyond it being God's will. Right down to the ambush. It's all there in their encrypted directories. While you were capturing the Hub, I was hacking my way in. I saw with my own eyes, every damning piece of evidence."
"The Ones have been making a mockery of the consensus for years. It's time they paid." She spoke evenly, reining herself back under control. "Everything I've done, I did so the Consensus could be free from the influence of the Ones and their toadies. Now, I want to finish the job. I want to wipe the stain of their existence from the universe."
Present time
Colonel Cameron Mitchell stepped off the access ramp and onto the Cylon dock facility. Around him, a fireteam of marines on loan from the Odyssey was already fanning out, securing the perimeter. A short distance away, Vala disembarked from another Heavy Raider, trailed by a team of SGC and Cylon engineers while a third Heavy Raider disgorged nothing but Centurions to act as escorts.
He nodded to Lida as she and a few other Cylons stepped down from the same Heavy Raider he had been on. Riker's Lida, he thought with a snicker. The strange relationship was still going strong despite the two not having much time to meet. After the embarrassment of the first time, Major Hailey always made sure the younger officer did not have a lot of free time on his hands. There had been pointed questions as to where Lieutenant Spencer was and why he was not included in this mission. Questions he had been hard put to deflect. It had taken some explaining for the young woman to accept that no, Lieutenant Spencer was not under any sanctions, and that neither was his exclusion from this mission a deliberate part of any attempt to blackball him.
"Well," he smiled at the Cylons and motioned with his left arm. "Ladies first."
Twenty-four Heavy Raiders had made good time, but nevertheless it had been a harrowing flight coming in from the jump point and through the debris field. They had been challenged by no less than three Raider patrols. Fortunately, Boomer's codes had checked out, and the raiders had simply passed them by without a second glance. The codes had worked for The Colony's proximity defenses as well. Which was all to the good. To hear the Cylons describe them, the proximity defenses involved cannons with a bore diameter easily larger than the Heavy Raiders they had ridden in, and about a generation more advanced and more powerful than the Galactica's own batteries.
They were now in one of eight permanent dock facilities ringing the inner superstructure of The Colony. Their aim was the Basestar parked directly ahead. Vala would be riding herd on the engineers at the engine room, while he, Lyda and others would proceed to the CIC and act as command crew. Around The Colony, similar teams were accessing the other permanent dock facilities and the Basestars they played host to. Major Hailey and her team would be securing another Basestar, the other one of two traded off by the Colonials to the SGC.
Three hours previous
"Admiral, was there something else you needed?"
The meeting Boomer had called had by now ended. Most of the delegates had asked to be returned to their ships, while Boomer herself had maintained her request for asylum and had been led to a spare room. The Admiral however, had stayed behind, prompting Colonel Davis to ask the question.
"I was wondering if an old man could request your indulgence." The Admiral smiled. The colonels of the Tau'ri simply traded looks before settling back into their chairs.
"Certainly, what did you have in mind?"
"I was just thinking about this ship," Admiral Adama began, making a show of sweeping his gaze around the conference room. "Very advanced, very powerful for its size. Easily a match, no, more than a match against ships four.. or possibly even ten times it's size, I would wager."
"Thanks," Colonel Davis accepted the complements with a guarded expression. "We're very proud of her."
"Must have been hard building all of them in secret. Without any form of orbital infrastructure. The ships must have gotten the lion's share of development efforts. Even then, still not without its limitations. A rather small and comparatively primitive air wing, no escort ships, and likely a limited range as well. Oh maybe not in terms of how far they can go, but how long they can operate without resupply. I make it, three, four months, tops. I suppose the transport beams could be used to make food, though I'm given to understand using them that way could be power intensive..."
The Admiral trailed off as he took note of the expressions on the Tauri Colonels' faces.
"Is there a point to this conversation, Admiral?" Colonel Davis asked sternly.
"I was wondering if I could interest you in a pair of warship hulls comparable in size to the Galactica. They're not cutting edge, of course, almost fifty years old, but the industrial base that built them is sound and the engines have just been overhauled. They're independently FTL capable, and while not possessing a beam transporter, they do have protein resequencers and massive water tanks that allow them to operate for up to a year without resupply. They also come with onboard fabrication plants for small craft, and the top and bottom sections are designed around five modular sections that can be easily converted into dock facilities for smaller warships. Small being from the Colonial point of view, these are still more than enough to accomodate your 304's or frankly even something the size of a Ha'tak. Or larger."
By now the Admiral was fighting to hide his amusement at the utterly gobsmacked expressions on the gathered Tau'ri officers faces. It was Colonel Carter who recovered first. Her brows still furrowed as she considered the Admiral's words, but nevertheless was able to formulate her own words.
"Why? Admiral, you do understand that we will help you get settled on your new world.. wherever that may be.. without any desire for compensation. In fact we've already dispatched the Hood, the Korolev and the Proteus to survey a number of potential planets. As soon as they can confirm which ones have Tylium, then we can shortlist a new homeworld for your people."
"And I appreciate that. But I have a different set of things I would like to ask in exchange for these. Namely your assistance in repairing and refurbishing one or two of the damaged Ha'taks currently adrift in this system, along with your assistance in learning how to maintain and operate them."
Present time
Adjusting his cap, Colonel Cameron Mitchell trailed after the Cylons and their shapely behinds, fighting the urge to whistle a tune. Everything seemed to be going according to plan for once. Boomer's plan had all the contingencies covered, and for that he had no complaints. By the end of the day, the Stargate Command would be the proud owner of two one and a half kilometer diameter warships cum mobile space stations. Life was good.
Eventually their meandering path through the Basestar took them to their destination. Like its counterpart on a Battlestar, the Basestar's Combat Information Center was nestled deep in the heart of the vessel, protected by meters of armor and deck. It was arranged similarly as well, with a plotting table and several displays in the middle, and various operations and communications consoles arrayed around it.
As the Cylons fanned out to man the various consoles, Cam raised the other teams on the tactical net.
"All teams, report status."
"Team two. Engineering and command crews are standing by."
"Team three. Engineering team standing by, command crew still en route. Had to take a detour around damaged decks."
"Team four. Engineering and command crews standing by."
"Team five. Engineering and command crews still en route."
"Team six. Command crew standing by, engineering crew still en route."
"Team seven. Engineering and command standing by.
"Team eight. Both crews still en route.
"All teams please advise when you're ready for the next phase." Cam caught Lida's eye and the young Cylon nodded to signify that they were ready on their end.
"Engineering?"
"We're all set down here, Cam." Vala's voice chirped. "The Cylons all tell me everything's working as they should."
After a few more minutes of waiting the wayward teams also reported they were ready. It was now time for the next phase of Boomer's plan.
"Alright people! Let's get the ball rolling. All teams, all ships, set the clock."
Boomer's plan was simplicity in of itself. By taking advantage of all the backdoor codes the Ones had accumulated, small teams would be able to succeed where even an entire Battlestar group would have been hard pressed. It got bonus points for turning the Ones' own tools against them too. Their arrogance in subverting the Concensus, their obsessive desire to control, all used to punish them and pay them back.
The clock ticked down, and when it ran out, eight Baseships jumped in unison.
The effect was instantaneous. All over the outer hull of the Colony, entire sections simply crumpled inwards. Inside, parts of what had been the permanent docks for the aging Baseships tore loose, as did entire portions of the inner superstructure, all in an effort to fill the void that had suddenly appeared. It was not enough, and as space distorted in six different places the core sections of the Colony itself fractured apart. Massive explosions burst out as the Tylium leaked out.
"Christ almighty." Cam watched the external feeds, transfixed at the massive station's death throes. Even as he watched, gigantic plumes erupted as Tylium and other volatile substances leaked and ignited. Around him, the Cylons were similarly spellbound as their homeworld broke apart, the pieces consumed by one explosion after another.
"Status of the fleet?" He whispered, hesitant to break the spell.
"All ships accounted for," an Eight manning the main communications station replied.
"All known enemy Baseships were docked when we jumped..." The Three frowned as she adjusted the DRADIS array. "Frak!"
"What is it?"
"Two enemy vessels were able to undock before they were caught up in the fireworks. Coming in on attack vectors." The Three looked up at Cam. "They're launching Raiders."
"Frak, we're sitting ducks." An Eight moaned. "We don't have anything, no crew to man fire control, we don't even have the frakking magazines loaded, and no way in Hades to get the drives spooled before they get to us."
Curses echoed out among the Cylons, and more than one slammed her fists on the console. Cam understood their frustration. If even one Baseship was able to escape the Colony's death, the Colonials would forever be looking over their shoulders. The Ones would never just let it pass, and this was the equivalent of backing them against the wall. Chances were, they would simply launch an all out attack on the Colonial fleet. No longer playing around, they would simply launch wave after wave of Raiders targeting the civilians first out of spite.
The SGC could protect them as long as they were in space, but watching over them long term was not something Homeworld Command would sign off on. The fleet was stretched thin as it was. And once the Colonials were settled on their new world and the 304's recalled, two Baseships with full complements of Raiders could overwhelm anything the combined Colonial-Cylon fleet could muster in defense.
It was time for plan B.
"Riker, did you copy all that?"
His question on the open frequency elicited several looks of surprise, including a rather sharp one from Lida. That surprise was doubled when the channel actually clicked and the younger officer replied.
"Loud and clear, Colonel."
With only his tactical communications gear, he would have been hard put to actually reach anywhere outside the Baseship he was on. Just coordinating this operation had required each team to have a designated communications operator with a backpack mounted subspace transceiver. Fortunately the younger officer was in a Puddlejumper, which came with its own top of the line Ancient designed communications and sensor systems.
"You know what to do, then. Good hunting."
"Targets designated. Commencing attack run. Riker out."
The junior officer signed off, and Cam turned his attention to the DRADIS displays.
"There!" One of the Eights pointed to a display, where a single contact had appeared between the enemy Baseships and the advancing Raiders.
"He's coming in hot!" A Three observed. "That acceleration's insane."
"What can he hope to do?" An Eight wondered out loud as she puzzled over the DRADIS readings. "He's in one of your shuttlecraft isn't he? What does he have that can take out a Baseship?"
"That's classified." The Tau'ri Colonel simply chuckled, as did the other Tau'ri in the CIC.
Already the icon representing the young Tau'ri pilot's craft should have a clear line of fire on the enemy capital ships. Even with a squadron of Raiders turning back to pursue, he was simply too far ahead.
In the Puddlejumper's compartment, Lieutenant Anderson Joseph "Riker" Spencer was completely in the zone. He had arrived right on the heels of the task force's Heavy Raiders, staying hidden by keeping the cloak up, and having followed them through jumps by using the Colonial jump drive Colonel Carter had personally jury-rigged into the small craft's passenger/cargo compartment. Even now, the automated systems were blaring out a constant alarm at the "alien technology" interfaced into the power grid. He ignored the distraction and focused on the task at hand. The small ship's ATA interface fed the sensor information directly into his brain, and allowed him to move the ship as if it was an extension of his own body. Normally he would rely on the Holographic Heads Up Display and the more mundane hands on control systems. Not so for combat. For combat, he went all in.
Two Baseships ahead of him, a squadron of Raiders behind him. If the Rebel Cylon information was accurate, and he had no cause to believe otherwise at the moment, the Raiders were likely being micro-managed from aboard the Baseship. This cut into their reaction time. From what he had heard, whoever was running things on the big ship were unlikely to be fighter pilots. It also meant he only had to destroy the big fish. Once that was done, the Cylons on their side could take care of the small fry.
Reaching out with his mind, he called on the Puddlejumper's weapons and fired two gleaming missiles, then quickly followed up with another two. The targets were huge. But they were also unshielded.
His brow furrowing in concentration, he commanded the first pair to burrow into one of the target's Y-shaped pylons. As expected several minor explosions burst out as fuel lines intended for the Raiders usually docked there ruptured. But it was not enough. Commanding the drone to keep burrowing, he directed it into the central pylon where the top and bottom sections connected. One more massive explosion and the gigantic ship started to list, thrown off vector by the explosion itself.
All this happened in a split second. Quickly he diverted the remaining two towards the other Baseship. The first target was not yet out for the count, but it was crippled. The other one had to be prevented from escaping. The drones charged straight into the central pylon and drilled clear through to the other side. He commanded them to loop around, this time attacking the ship's dorsal section. Piercing through several meters of bulkhead before exploding at maximum yield.
Another massive explosion and another Baseship sent drifting. Already, the Raiders were also starting to drift. No longer accelerating, they were simply continuing on their previous vectors. He fired two more pairs of drones, dividing them between the two crippled warships. The drones split off into pairs, and proceeded to plunge into the heart of the two Baseships, plowing through several dozens of meters of bulkhead, before finding magazines and fuel bunkers and going out in massive explosions that finished off the massive ships.
"Shaft, Riker. Targets eliminated, mission accomplished."
"Good shooting, kid. Now come on into the barn, so we can all go home."